


Not His Boyfriend

by AmIAPrettyLady



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Secrets, casefic, kind of short, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmIAPrettyLady/pseuds/AmIAPrettyLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a fluffy moment at a crime scene. I was bored waiting for a friend and liked what came of it, so here you go!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not His Boyfriend

John stood, shivering in the chilly fall breeze next to Sherlock, while the detective observed the prone form of the victim. His jumper was thinner than most others but he hadn’t thought it would matter so much. Nearly an hour later, he was wishing he’d chosen a thicker one, because it didn’t look as if Sherlock would be done any time soon.  
“John,” Sherlock spoke.  
“What?”  
“Come here,” the tall man demanded.  
“What? Why?” John asked, brow furrowed in confusion. If Sherlock asked what John saw one more time, the doctor felt like he could hit someone.  
“Just come here,” Sherlock repeated shortly. “This coat’s big enough for two,” he added by way of explanation.  
John sighed. “No, Sherlock. I’m fine.”  
Sherlock scoffed, “You are certainly not fine. You’re freezing, and I can’t have you catch cold.”  
John sighed heavily, “Fine. People will talk, you know?” It was a running joke between them, these days. They weren’t particularly interested in the opinions of others as far as their relationship went.  
Sherlock smiled, “They do little else, John. And in this case, they’d probably be right.”  
John chuckled softly and allowed Sherlock to wrap his arms and coat around his waist, settling back against the taller man’s body with a sigh.  
They stood observing the body for several more minutes before Sally finally spoke, “Oi! Freak, what’d you and your boyfriend find?”  
John sighed yet again. He was getting tired of making the same protests to the same people, “He’s not my boyfriend!” Not for some weeks, at least.  
Sherlock grinned and leaned down to whisper in John’s ear, “I’m your husband.”  
John smiled. It was true. They’d been married rather spontaneously in a little court office where Mycroft and his assistant had signed as witnesses. Suffice it to say that no one who wasn’t present in the room knew about the development. While they’d both love nothing more than to announce it to the entirety of London, John wanted to tell Mrs. Hudson and his sister in person first.  
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Donovan quoted.  
John rolled his eyes, “Methinks I’m not a lady,” he replied.  
“What’d you two find?” she asked again on a sigh.  
“Someone drugged her,” they both said in unison, then grinned and chuckled softly together.  
“She’s a med student, nearly done with her studies,” Sherlock continued. “It was likely a jealous classmate or lover—or both.”  
“I’ll get a warrant for her class rosters,” Lestrade stated as he pulled out his phone to make the necessary calls.  
The detective didn’t mention her motives for becoming a med student—irrelevant—but he knew John would appreciate that he knew.  
“Brilliant,” John whispered, awestruck yet again.  
“Simple,” Sherlock replied with a smile.  
“I love you.”  
“I know.”   
Sherlock rarely said the words themselves, preferring to show his emotions through actions. John was more than fine with it, but he knew Sherlock needed to hear the words occasionally otherwise he began to doubt his self-worth again. “Shall we head home, then?” the older man questioned. “I’d like some tea, and to catch up on the sleep you deprived me of last night.”  
“We’re done here, so yes, we may go home, John, and you can have your tea.”  
“But not my sleep?”  
Sherlock grinned suggestively, “After a fashion.”  
John groaned but smiled, “You’ll be the death of me.”  
“I sincerely hope not. Though, it would be a nice way to go out.”  
John rolled his eyes. One could always tell the level of Sherlock’s randiness by the severity of his innuendos.   
“What are you two on about?” Anderson demanded after helping to lift the body onto the stretcher to be wheeled into the van.  
“Nothing that concerns you,” Sherlock retorted.  
“Arguing over who’ll top tonight?” he sneered.  
“No,” John replied tersely. “Not that it’s any of your business.”  
“Me,” Sherlock whispered darkly in John’s ear.  
John clenched his jaw and waited for Anderson to turn his back on them before he replied, “We’ll see.”  
They made their way home by way of taxi, running their hands up and down legs, arms and backs the entire way. As it turned out, they both topped that night.


End file.
